Barefeet In The Earth© Poem by Roann Mendriq

My Mother tends her garden,
just like she tends a child;
Her flowers bloom in sweet profusion,
Joyfull, never wild.

Kneeling beneath the arbour,
she tends her rosy prizes;
Dad sits upon his deck chair,
He gently supervises.

And there I was all spruced up,
dressed up to the hilt;
Mind and heart so weary,
Tears dried, already spilt.

Mum glanced at me and knew at once.
She called me to her side;
One silent smile within her eyes,
No need to speak, confide.

My fancy heels were kicked off;
without a backward glance;
I knelt down in the open earth,
So grateful for the chance.

We dug, we pruned, we weeded,
Earth splattered on my dress;
My stockings laddered, ruined,
My nails a muddy mess.

My heart was gently healing,
in this company serene;
Playing in the earth again,
surrounded by sweet green.

Nature has her healing ways,
We only have to choose,
Love and Service are the keys,
not ridiculously high heeled shoes...